He sat despondently against the rough brick wall, statuesque in demeanor, and fluttered his eyelids closed. He had been here for almost 8 years, never once moving from his sidewalk seat facing Madison Avenue. By now he had learned the clunk of every business man, the tap of every prostitute, the stomp of every child, and the patter of every dog, as well as the clop of every mounted steed; there was no need for him to relocate. He could recognize every birdsong over the muffled gasping and wheezing of 24-hour traffic and pick out where each of them were nesting that spring.
There were hundreds of people that had dropped change for him over the years, thousands even; the kind-hearted souls who sympathized with his decaying condition. He memorized each face as though it was his sole purpose and never forgot a name, just in case they returned, so he could continue to thank them for taking a pause out of their hectic life to care for him.
Eventually though, as time wore on, he realized that nobody really cared, they simply felt obligated to save their place in heaven or lighten their pockets a bit. He dug deep into the vaults of remembered faces and tried to see their eyes. If he could put a colour to their eyes, he would know that they had cared, at least enough to make contact. But he couldn’t. Not a single person. He could see scraggly beards, bald heads, painted eyelids, noses of all shapes and sizes, even dark moles on cheeks, but not one blue, brown, or green iris.
He gently rested his tin cup on the cold concrete and hung his head with a sigh as the sun sank further behind the horizon of glass panes. The geometric shadows crept closer, reaching towards him with arms outstretched. He smiled with a single tear; they had always been there for him. The shades of black never failed to hold him close at the end of the day. With a last wheezing rattle of breath he offered his reposed palms to the silent darkness. They slunk over his battered chest and pressed his lashes together slowly, forever and finally hiding his colours from the rest of the careless, colourless souls.
He was home.
flower68, about 1 month ago
8’-l..beautifully written Lys.
LisaG, about 1 month ago
Sensitively woven, with a poignant and pointed message……I can’t help but wonder how many times, I’ve walked passed a homeless person, sitting on the sidewalk with a sign – asking for assistance, when I’ve coins I drop a few in. Other times I hold my head close to the ground and continue forward, consoling myself with the knowledge, I have several charities I give to….
I am one of the colourless to a degree, I do give of my cash but I don’t find the time to volunteer, nor do I take the time to get to know the person that sits on the corner of Collins and Spring Street, near my work. Or for that matter, the man that sleeps in the rotunda in the city park I walk through. :((((((
iaintsmart, about 1 month ago
Loved that.
Have you ever read ‘the outsider’ by Albert Camus… (had an american version titled ‘the stranger.’ ?) for some reason although about a completely different subject it popped into my head when I was reading this.
montdragon, about 1 month ago
Aside the slide beyond the nod sleeps the sleeper deep deeper to home to the keeper….we shall all be gathered to starlight matter….for now it does not matter eyes wide open or just shuttered by the passersby who shutter creep creeping blind blinders just another homeless guy. [0^0]
oscarelizondo, about 1 month ago
This is so heart felt, deep rooted in the souls of us as this happens to many poor individuals. Your captured such vivid feelings of depression when the caring is only for their own personal benefit. You created a master piece here for all to read and hear the pain of the less fortune. You placed justice square in our lap to let us know not to be fakes. I admire your words so gently placed in these lines to embrace the hardships that a lonely person faces. Your descriptive poetic verses really capture the inner side of a person’s mind. I must place this one as one of my favorites, I love your interpretattion to the fulless. Wow, my heart and soul still aches in pain, it really hits the spot to seek out a way to be thankfull and help others with meaningful contributions that mean they come with a blessing from our hearts. Great jobBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Trish Cooper, about 1 month ago
Oh, this is just superb writing….....You had me from the first line to the last, my attention never wavered, that is just how well you drew me into your story…....Wonderfully written with such sensitivity and reality …....you blew me away…...I have added you to my watchlist and I cannot wait to read more from you…:)) straight to my fav’s…..xoxoo
missheels, about 1 month ago
Simply Beautiful Lys – You truly have a beautiful way with words.